


Something Like Love

by billystar



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hints of abuse, M/M, Neil goes by stephen in one half of this and Abram in the other, Sad Ending, but can i get fluff with a sad ending thanks, i know angst with a happy ending is a tag, love me nd my one and only ability to write angst, mwah mwah mwah, teenage exy fanatics learning how to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billystar/pseuds/billystar
Summary: Mary died in France at the hand of Abram's father and Abram runs until he reaches Marseille. Until he meets a boy called Jean who plays exy and makes him feels human.





	Something Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> Based by the comic done by @cielleinthazure on tumblr for the Exy or Death zine,, check out their art!!!!
> 
> Hope u enjoy suffering xoxo
> 
>  
> 
> As usual my beta is @littlepluto,, what a babe,, i love them a lot no romo

It’s been six years since Abram last stepped onto an exy court, and it shows: his tentative movements and tangling feet make Jean laugh at him on more than one occasion, but whenever he shoots an eager smile in Jean’s direction the other boy stops short and stares a while. It feels heavy. He didn’t know why.

 

The racquet is weighty in his palms; he feels like his grip is slipping even with the secondhand gloves strapped around his wrists. The movements are slowly coming back to him as natural as breathing, but sirens in his head are blaring him to  _ stop _ ,  _ run _ ,  _ escape _ . But his mother is dead: there’s no one to tell him not to keep chasing the ball; no one to tell him not to keep slipping past Jean to slam the ball against the plexiglass with all the strength he can muster. All that exists in that moment is him and Jean and the sounds of heavy panting and feet thumping on the wooden court floors.

 

They play, almost in silence, for hours. It’s only when Abram is knocked to the floor, unable to bear the weight of Jean’s check, that the two send a glance in the direction of the clock on the walls outside the court. Two hours have passed of the boys just running back and forth, trying to outplay each other, and it’s the most fun Abram has had in years.

 

“I think I need to go.”   
  


-

 

Jean sees Stephen in the bleachers at the next practice and spends the whole time distracted by the melancholic look on the others boy’s face. Eventually his coach shouts at him to “pull his head out of his goddamn ass” and the next time he looks over, Stephen is gone. 

 

For the first time during his extra practice, Jean feels lonely. He pushes the thoughts aside and trains that extra bit harder. Feelings won’t improve his talent on the court.

 

-

 

Two weeks after Abram first talked to Jean he decides to stay behind again. After everyone has left, he watches Jean glance up to his usual seat on the bleachers; and this time Abram looks back, letting a hesitant smile grow on his face. After a couple of seconds of staring at each other, Abram pushes himself of the bench and makes his way down the steps, meeting Jean at the bottom before they amble towards the locker room to get Abram some gear. 

 

It’s Jean who breaks the silence. “Why’d you stay?”

 

“It’s like you said before,” says Abram. “My mother’s not here to stop me.” Abram looks up at Jean with a smile that he just can’t seem to make reach his eyes, and Jean doesn’t say a word - he just smiles back. 

 

-

 

Stephen doesn’t stay after every practice, just once a week on a Thursday. Jean wants to ask why, but the smaller boy is skittish and wary, and although people think Jean’s an asshole, he knows when boundaries aren’t meant to be pushed.

 

One time, he reaches out to ruffle Stephen’s hair after a particularly good session when he had managed to dodge past Jean and slam the ball into the plexiglass with a solid thud, and Stephen reacts with a full bodied flinch. Jean retracts his hand immediately, murmuring a soft apology- he sees himself in this boy and he swears that he isn’t going to be another dark spot in Stephen’s life.

 

He watches Stephen wrap an arm round his as if in apology and with guilt in his eyes he says, “It’s fine.”

 

Jean does not believe him. Not one bit. 

 

-

 

The next few weeks, and subsequently the next few practices lead to Abram staying more than once a week. Every time Jean stayed, he did too. His skills as a striker are rapidly improving; he can tell through the proud glint in Jean’s eye. Why his mother didn’t want him to play the sport when it gave him this much of a rush, this much happiness, he wouldn’t know; but now that he’s started playing again, he doesn’t think he could ever stop. Even if his life is at stake.

 

And he can feel that Jean feels the same, that exy is more than just a sport for him too.

 

-

 

Jean starts noticing Stephen’s lingering glances when his became harder to control. There’s something so intriguing about the brunette’s spunky attitude paired with his quick snaps into a meek disposition- along with his general passion for exy- that draws Jean in and holds his interest in a heavy handed grip.

 

He knows his interest is somewhat returned when he catches Stephen watching him drink from his water bottle, with wide eyes that flicker to his lips after Jean finishes and wipes the drops of moisture from his mouth. He watches the blush grow on Stephen’s cheeks and lets his face fall into a smirk, ignoring the fact that his own face felt hot.

 

It was then that he decided he would let Stephen make the first move, especially with the way he would still flinch every time Jean moved anywhere in his general direction. He trusted Stephen to have the fortitude to make the first move, but at this point, he was happy just to see Stephen happy - no matter what happened between them.

 

-

 

As they lay on the court floor, helmets off and exy racquets at their side, Abram asks a question he’s been pondering on for some time. “What colour are your eyes? They’re weird.”

 

“I know they’re weird, Stephen, but they’re just grey. I don’t ask about your eyes do I?” Abram flinches at the mention and the conversation is left at a standstill. Jean never brings it up again and neither does Abram. It’s a mutual understanding.   
  


-

 

It’s a week later when Jean tells him, “In August, I’m moving to America. I have a spot on the Edgar Allan Ravens.” Abram is stunned silent.

 

“Should you be telling me this?”

 

“I trust you to keep it a secret, Stephen.” Abram flinches at the name but can’t help responding in awe.

 

“That’s amazing, Jean; thank you for telling me.” Jean looks at him with something akin to softness in his slate-shaded eyes. They stay silent for a few moments before Abram breaks it with a quietness to his voice:

 

“As long we’re trading secrets, my favourite colour is grey.”

 

Jean asks, “Why is that a secret?”

 

And Abram replies after a short while with, “It’s a secret because I’m not allowed to get to attached to anything.”

 

“Who said that?”

 

“My mother.”

 

That’s when the conversation ends. They share more secrets after that.

 

-

 

The first time something akin to romance happens between them is when they’re sitting on the bleachers. Jean had hurt his ankle at last practice- just a small twist- but still wanted to watch his team play, and perhaps most importantly, spend time with Stephen. They’ve been talking for hours about exy and classes and meaningless things, before settling into a comfortable silence, when Stephen slowly slides his hand to nudge at Jean’s. And as he looks up at the brunette, who’s watching the team drill with a steely gaze, he catches a faint pinkness over Stephen’s cheeks. Stephen rests his hand on the bench, palm up, and Jean slides his hands on top, curling his fingers to link with Stephen’s. He focuses his attention back on the court, but can’t help being distracted by the feeling of the warm, callused hand pressed up against his own. 

 

Jean thinks it feels like home.

 

-

 

Abram thinks Jean’s going to look gorgeous in black and red.

 

-

 

From then on their relationship only grows, from fleeting touches and hand-holding, to hugs and eventually kisses . Jean is revelling in the smiles he manages to pull from Stephen, so much so that when dazzled by an especially wide grin, he can’t help but lean in and kiss it from Stephen’s face. Which leads to a hitched breath and an even bigger smile from the brunette, which Jean matches with his own. 

 

He pulls back from the kiss with their knees brushing and Stephen’s hand resting lightly on the back of his neck, his palms on Stephen’s waist. Although barely touching, it feels like the closest they’ve been so far; it feels as if they’re wrapped up in their own universe together, with no one else existing but them. Jean never wants it to end. But with two weeks left before he leaves for the Ravens, he knows, with a sinking feeling, that it will.

 

-

 

“Will I see you again?” Abram asks.

 

Jean says, “We’ll stay in touch.”

 

Abram says, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

Jean says, “I wouldn’t make one if I couldn’t swear to keep it.” 

 

Abram doesn’t reply but Jean slowly reaches for his face and cups his cheek with a fragility that makes him feel impossibly vulnerable. Jean brushes his thumb back and forth before leaning in for a soft, slow kiss that feels like more than a brush of lips. It feels like a vow that is deeper than words can explain. And Abram believes him.

 

-

 

It’s a day before Jean leaves, the first time they’re anywhere but the exy court, and it’s surreal. This is the first time Jean has ever felt more than a shallow connection to another person in his whole life, and he can’t help but wonder:  _ is this what love feels like? _

 

He feels like he’s falling, like he’s  _ floating _ , even as if he’s constantly on edge but in a good way- the best way.  He so badly doesn’t want to leave, but he has to. He was told when packing his suitcase that his move was more than what it seemed at first. He is a debt to be payed. It’s lucky, really, that he’s talented at the right kind of things. As soon as he steps on American soil, he’s Moriyama property. That’s what his parents told him, and Jean wonders if Stephen, too, felt like property when his father was beating and controlling him like a minion. He wonders if that’s what’ll happen to him. He hopes not.

 

They’re sitting on a bench in the local park with a cup of coffee each and hands intertwined. They’re both silent, in a way that’s comfortable but sullen at the same time. When Stephen speaks, not matter how quietly it is, it nearly makes Jean jump.

 

“I’ll miss you, Jean.” Stephen doesn’t look at him; in fact, it’s like he’s trying his hardest  _ not  _ to.

 

“I’ll miss you too, Stephen.” The other boy doesn’t try to hold back the flinch, the wince that covers his whole face, the clenching of his hand around Jean’s. 

 

He breathes in a shuddering breath and drags his gaze up to meet Jean’s- or, more accurately, to the left side of Jean’s face, avoiding eye contact. “Abram.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“My name. It’s Abram. Stephen... Stephen isn’t real. With you, I’m Abram.”

 

Jean doesn’t question the reveal. He knows better than to doubt the boy beside him. He just tightens his hand around Abram’s and says “Well then, Abram. I’ll miss you too.” At first he struggles not to cry, but he can’t help it; he’s pitiful of himself, knowing that in the near future his life is about to change so utterly. He tries not to think the worst of it. It’s hard.

 

-

 

They kiss one last time before Jean leaves, something hungry and sad. It’s a patched-together kiss made of ragged breathing, salty tears and hands clutching at clothes with a desperation they’ve never shown to the other before.

 

“You gotta keep playing okay, Abram? Don’t let anyone stop you.” And Abram nods, a cocksure grin splitting across his face, contrasting against the red rimmed eyes. 

 

“I’ve got to keep playing so I can finally win against you.”

 

Jean, reluctant romantic that he is, thinks that Abram has already won. That he’d won Jean’s heart months ago when Jean first saw life burst in his eyes. He doesn’t say it out loud but for some reason, he thinks Abram knows.

 

They say goodbye.


End file.
